


Sunday Mornings

by brooklinegirl



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-28
Updated: 2006-05-28
Packaged: 2018-10-16 20:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10578738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklinegirl/pseuds/brooklinegirl
Summary: Summary: Coffee and doughnuts and morning sex.Huge, ginormous thanks to justbreathe80 for encouraging me to write this, holding my hand through the process, and doing a wonderful beta on it for me. You are the best, darling, I adore you madly.





	

Sunday mornings, Fraser was up before anybody else. Most of the time, at least. Fraser was one of those people who really did need eight hours of sleep a night. Without it, he was grumpy, which meant he was short with Dief, and didn't talk to either Ray or Vecchio very much at all. He was impossible to deal with when he was grumpy, because he wouldn't take a nap, wouldn't even admit that he was off in any way, and he refused to fight with either of the Rays, though he'd make snide comments to Dief in a tone they could clearly interpret. Basically they'd just have to get through the day until he fell asleep on the couch with a frown on his face and his arms crossed over his chest, like a little kid determined to stay up till midnight, no matter how tired he was.

And it was funny, you'd think Fraser would be the type to wake up at the drop of a hat, one of those light-sleepers who'd have a knife to your throat by instinct if you woke him up without warning. You know, a commando-type guy. But once he was out, he was down for the count, out but good, and nothing short of an earthquake would wake him. When he passed out on the couch like that, Ray and Vecchio, between the two of them, could get him up and on his feet, and sort of propel him along to the bed. They could get his clothes off, and tuck him in, and he'd never wake up, not really. He'd just sigh, and settle down, and go right back into a deep, deep sleep.

"How does he do that?" Ray asked, scratching the back of his head and staring down at Fraser, whose face was slack and peaceful. He was snoring just a tiny bit about every third breath.

Vecchio grinned a little, sliding his arm around Ray's waist and looking down at Fraser too. "You got me. I ever pass out like that, you leave me on the couch, you got it?" He gave Ray a stern look out of the corner of his eye. "You tried to manhandle me like that, I'd wake up and hurt you."

Ray laughed softly. Vecchio tried to be such a tough guy. Ray turned a little, tugged Vecchio up against him. "I think you don't actually mind so much when I manhandle you."

Vecchio snorted softly, and Ray pressed his lips against the side of his neck. "I think you kind of like it, maybe."

"Nope." Vecchio leaned into him and ran his fingers lightly up the back of Ray's t-shirt.

Ray tilted his head and brushed his lips against Vecchio's. He felt Vecchio's breath catch, and smiled. "Sure you don't," he said, and wrapped his fingers in the fine cotton of Vecchio's dress shirt, holding him close and slipping his tongue into his mouth, as Fraser continued snoring softly behind them.

Though the thing was, when Fraser did wake up, he did it all at once. Sleeping to wide awake, just like that, and that blew Ray's mind. Confused the hell out of him, but so long as Fraser wasn’t trying to get him up at the same stupidly early hour, well, that was fine. Fraser could be as crazy as he liked.

And most Sundays, that meant Fraser got up at some ungodly hour, like six AM, and called that "sleeping in." Of course, Fraser was also one of those people who went to bed at a reasonable hour, no matter that it was Saturday night. Most of the time he was in bed by nine or ten. If there was nothing crazy going on with a case, they'd mostly be in on Saturday nights, with Vecchio cooking a nice meal, maybe stuffed shells and sauce, with recipe he learned from his mom. He'd buy a nice, fresh loaf of Italian bread, and open a good bottle of wine - which Ray wouldn’t drink, preferring beer, himself, and Fraser wouldn't drink, being Fraser. Vecchio would stare sadly at the unappreciated bottle, and drink a couple of long, slow glasses himself, gazing sadly at his less-than-classsy companions.

And the night would be casual, easy, with TV or a movie, Vecchio taking up more than his fair share of the couch, while Ray struggled to hold his ground. Fraser usually chose to sit on the floor with Dief, sometimes leaning his head back. Ray would watch Vecchio running his fingers lightly through Fraser's soft, thick hair and feel this deep, profound sense of pleasure in the pit of his stomach, so much that he didn't quite know what to do with it, and he'd have to shut his eyes for a second.

And still, even on nights off like that, around nine, Fraser would stand, and stretch, bend over the couch to drop kisses on both of their mouths, and then head to bed like a good little boy. Ray would roll his eyes, Vecchio would grin, and the two of them would go back to arguing the line of demarcation on the couch with their feet.

Of course, sometimes they got home late. Sometimes the three of them were working on a case, and things would get crazy. There were Saturday nights that ended up with bad guys and car chases and Fraser leaping out of car windows and tackling people. There'd be guns and violence, staying much too late at the station booking the perps, and staggering home exhausted, fucking done, with bruises and usually a black eye for at least one of them.

Then, there was too much adrenaline in their systems for even Fraser to crash early. Times like that - well, there was a side of Fraser Ray hadn't seen before, not really. There'd been glimpses, of course, but Fraser wasn't the type you'd peg as an adrenaline junkie. It was more like he was just crazy, and you wrote it off as that. The first time they came back to the apartment, together, though, after one of those crazy nights - and they hadn't even been doing this, not as the three of them, for very long now. It was all still pretty new - Fraser had been quiet the whole way home, staring blankly out the window and answering any questions or comments thrown his way with "Mmm"s or nods.

Ray'd figured he was just tired.

Ray'd figured wrong.

He'd just turned the keys in the lock when Fraser's big, broad hand shoved the door open from behind him, his other hand on Ray's back pushing him through the doorway so quick that he stumbled. Fraser caught ahold of him, and shoved him back against the wall next to the door, kissing him hard and pressing him so tight up against the wall that Ray was practically on his toes, and his dick was hard before he could even say, "What the fuck?"

Vecchio, man - you couldn't fault the guy, he was someone who got with the program - yanked the keys out of the lock and came in right behind them. He slammed the door shut, dropped the keys on the table in the hall, and said hoarsely, "Jesus Christ, Benny."

Ray was too busy being kissed senseless to open his eyes. Fraser was nudging his legs apart, pushing against his cock with his thigh and - God - grabbing onto Ray's wrists, yanking his arms above his head, and pinning them against the wall, hard. Ray moaned into Fraser's mouth, and distantly he heard Vecchio say again, "Jesus," and then Fraser's mouth was torn away from his. When Ray blinked his eyes open, he saw Vecchio kissing Fraser desperately, Fraser's head tilted to the left, while he still had Ray pinned against the damn wall.

Vecchio finally pulled away, breathing heavy. "Do him," he said roughly, and Fraser turned back to Ray, his eyes wild, while Vecchio moved around behind Fraser and reached around from both sides, undoing his pants.

"Fuck," Ray said dizzily. This was - he'd thought he was tired, but his whole body was thrumming with this, and his cock was so hard he thought he might die if he didn't come soon, soon, soon, and Fraser - "Jesus," he said, "Fraser, the way you look. "

Fraser licked his lips and looked Ray over like he was deciding what to do to him next. "Anything," Ray panted. "Just - anything."

Fraser's eyes got dark, and he palmed Ray's hard cock through his jeans. Ray groaned loudly, and Fraser smoothly unbuckled Ray's belt and opened his jeans, and got on his knees - right there in the damn foyer - and sucked him hard, his hands pinning Ray's hips against the wall so tightly that that made him almost as hot as Fraser's mouth on his cock.

All he could do was gasp, and gasp, and Christ, Christ, Vecchio was there, was right there just watching, his eyes lidded, biting his lip, his cock hard inside his pants. All he did was watch, while Fraser sucked Ray hard and fast and deep, steady, steady. He couldn’t - he couldn’t even - "Fuck," he gasped out, and he was looking right at Vecchio as he came in Fraser's mouth.

And Fraser - dear God. Fraser wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist, as Ray's knees gave out and he slid down the wall to the floor. Fraser gave him a quick, dirty kiss, then heaved himself to his feet. He turned, and god, the look he gave Vecchio took even Ray's breath away.

And Vecchio - Vecchio who didn't bend over real easy for anyone, not even for either of them, even now - Vecchio lifted his chin for a second, then nodded. "Yeah," he said, swallowing. "Yeah," he said again. "Come on."

And Fraser took hold of Vecchio, bent him over the back of the couch, and fucked him like his life depended on it. Which it maybe did.

Ray, sitting on the floor with his pants still open, watched breathlessly and thought that maybe this thing was working out just fine.

But on normal weekends, quiet weekends, Fraser would be gone by the time Ray cracked his eyes open for the first time. Fraser would have this crazy breakfast of, like, some kind of oaty thing, with milk, and no coffee or caffeine or anything- he'd just be up, and awake, and ready to go. Fraser was the type to roll out of bed and get dressed right away, too, in his running shoes and sweatpants and t-shirt, and convince Dief to go out for a jog.

Dief wasn't necessarily an early riser, himself, but he was pretty much intrigued whenever anyone set foot in the kitchen, so after the disappointing oats and milk thing (you'd think Dief would learn, eventually, but he never did), he was up anyway, and he'd go out the door willingly enough with Fraser.

Ray, on the other hand, would sleep till noon if he got the chance. Most Sundays, though, he'd drag himself out of bed at the slightly more reasonable hour of nine, ignoring Vecchio's grumbles. "Just because you have to be crazy, and the Mountie has to be crazy, doesn’t mean I'm nuts."

"Shut the fuck up," Ray said softly. He tugged the blanket back up over Vecchio. "Go back to sleep."

"Damn right…" Vecchio buried his balding head under the blankets. Ray stretched, and shrugged into his gym clothes, grabbed his bag, and headed out the door. He passed Fraser coming back in from his run, all sweaty and grinning. "It's a beautiful morning out there, Ray. Take advantage of it."

Ray leaned in for a quick kiss. "Mmph." He reached around and squeezed Fraser's ass through his sweatpants. "I'd rather take advantage of you."

Fraser tugged him close for a second, kissing him sweetly. Ray groaned, tugging away from him. "Later. I'll be back in a bit."

Fraser sighed, and released him. "Okay."

Ray grinned. Fraser liked morning sex a lot. Ray would bet money he'd end up jerking off in the shower, and still be good to go by the time Ray got back from the gym. He headed out the door, then poked his head back in. "Frase," he said, and stopped, because Fraser was stripping out of his t-shirt right there in the living room, and Ray's tongue forgot how to work for a second. "Uh. Yeah. Vecchio's being pissy this morning. Let him sleep, 'kay?"

"Right you are, Ray," Fraser said solemnly, letting his eyes flick down Ray's body for a second. Ray was smiling as he headed back out. Fraser'd be jerking off in the shower for sure.

The image was sort of stuck in the back of Ray's mind all the way through his work out (Fraser, muscles and curves gleaming under the coursing water, steamy air, his hand all soapy and slick as he reached down to take his cock in his hand, his cock which had probably been hard since Ray kissed him in the living room, but Fraser, oh, Fraser wasn't one to just give in like that, no, he'd ignore it, stripping off his clothes and getting the water nice and hot, washing up thoroughly, and completely ignoring his persistent hard-on.

And when he finally did let his hand slip down, man, that had to feel so fucking good, and he'd be alone there, Vecchio still asleep in the other room, not even knowing that Fraser was stroking himself off right there in the shower, gasping in the thick, humid air and taking himself to the edge again, and again, before he finally let go, let himself come, hard, spurting out over his fist…)

Ray didn't cut his work out short, but it took a serious act of will-power.

He did a quick round with the jump rope, to loosen up, and a few rounds with the speed bag before moving on to the heavy bag. He couldn't make it move like Fraser could. Fraser had more muscle than it looked like, but it wasn't just that. He had the heft behind it, too. Ray could always get a pretty good rhythm going on the speed bag, but the heavy bag, that was kinda close to hitting a wall for him. It was good, though, he worked up a good sweat, a healthy one, and Ray felt destroyed by the time he stumbled, dripping with sweat, to the shower. The hot water perked him up, though, reminded him of what was waiting for him at home. He'd bet money that Vecchio would still be sleeping by the time he got back.

By the time he finished doing his hair (whistling at himself in the mirror when it came out perfect), he was in a good mood. A damn good mood. The fall air was cool outside, and he kept the window down in the Goat on the way home, and the radio up loud. He stopped at the fancy coffee shop near the gym, got a good cup of coffee for himself, a cup of that flavored crap for Vecchio, and a cup of tea for Fraser. He stopped again, at a totally different place, for doughnuts because the fancy coffee shop only had fancy, overpriced pastries that didn't taste half as good as the ones from the no-name bakery that had been there on the corner by their apartment for as long as he could remember.

He went all-out, got a dozen, which Fraser was gonna make faces at, and Vecchio was gonna sigh about how come they can't get a nice croissant every once in a while. But they'd both eat their share, and even Fraser - who you'd think would be a plain doughnut guy if you ever saw one - even he said the shop on the corner makes the best vanilla creme doughnuts in the city.

Ray took the steps up to the apartment two at a time, didn’t spill a drop of coffee, and wasn't the least bit out of breath, either. Fraser was on the couch when he came in the door, with - God, this was like living in a gay porn movie sometimes - all his leather spread out. The boots were done, and he was just putting the finishing polish on the belt. Ray gave a long, low whistle, and Fraser looked up at him with a smile.

"How was the gym?"

"Fan-fucking-tastic." Ray dropped the doughnuts and coffee on the table and leaned over the back of the sofa to hand Fraser his tea. "How was your morning?"

"Good," said Fraser, his head tilted back to look at Ray, his eyes twinkling just a little.

"Huh," Ray said, looking at Fraser closely. "You totally jerked off in the shower, didn’t you?"

"Ray!" Fraser exclaimed in his scandalized tone, and Ray just grinned and leaned forward, kissing the rest of the protestations right out of his mouth.

Fraser was flushed by the time Ray pulled back, and Ray, pleased with himself, turned to snag the two cups of coffee and headed for the bedroom.

"Ray, Ray is still sleeping," Fraser called softly, abandoning the leather on the couch and padding after him in bare feet.

Ray pushed the door to the bedroom open and regarded Vecchio, who had shoved off the blankets and was now sprawled on the bed in his dorky striped pajamas (who wore pajamas, anyway?), practically sideways, looking pretty damn comfortable. Ray looked at the clock. "It's almost noon," he observed. "And they say Polacks are lazy." He put the cups down on the near bedside table and toed off his sneakers, then kneed his way onto the bed. Vecchio stirred lazily, but didn't open his eyes.

Ray leaned down close to him, and whispered in his ear, "Coffee."

"Nrg." Vecchio didn't open his eyes, but he moved again and lifted one hand blindly, searching for the cup.

Ray watched, amused, and peeled open the lid of his own cup, taking a sip of the just-perfectly-hot coffee and sighing, deeply satisfied. He looked up at Fraser, who was leaning against the doorframe, in jeans and the flannel shirt with the torn cuff, and smiling faintly at the two of them. "You're addicted, you know," Fraser said, nodding at Ray's coffee cup.

Ray grinned. "Only to you, baby," he said, and took another sip while Fraser shook his head, obviously trying not to laugh.

Vecchio finally opened his eyes all the way. "You're not funny," he said to Ray, his voice still thick with sleep. "You think you are? But really, not so much." He pushed up on one elbow, and Ray handed him his coffee.

"You're just not awake enough to appreciate my humor," Ray informed him. "I'm totally funny. Even Fraser thinks so. Right, Frase?"

Fraser shook his head, but the corners of his eyes crinkled the way they did when he was trying not to laugh. "I think you're incorrigible."

Ray tilted his head to shoot a questioning look at Vecchio.

"Not the same thing as funny," Vecchio explained, and Ray reached his free hand behind him, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at Fraser.

Fraser caught it easily and pushed off the door frame, coming over to the bed. Ray looked up at him and Fraser reached down, taking the cup of coffee out of his hand and setting it safely away, on the bureau.

Ray figured he had enough adrenaline in his system to not need the caffeine so much, and he gave in easily, lying back on the bed with his hands crossed behind his head, lifting one eyebrow at Fraser.

Fraser leaned over his body, close enough that Ray could smell the fresh, clean scent of him, to take the cup of coffee out of Vecchio's hand. "Hey," Vecchio protested. "I wasn't done with -"

Fraser, still leaning across Ray, cut off Vecchio's protestations with a kiss, deep, with tongue, Ray could see it from where he was. He groaned, quietly, but kept his hands behind his head, his body tensing up, Fraser supporting himself with his arms on the bed, his chest close enough that Ray's belly brushed up against it every time he took a breath.

Fraser pulled back, his lips shiny and his breath coming a little fast. Vecchio just lay back looking breathless and pleased. "That's a nice way to wake up."

Ray lay there, looking up at Fraser. Fraser was clearly hard inside his jeans, and Ray's heart was beating fast, his own cock getting hard. Fraser looked a little smug, his expression clearly asking, "what's next?"

Ray gazed up at him for another heartbeat, then rolled over and pressed Vecchio against the mattress. "What the -"

Ray kissed him, spreading his legs with his knee and rocking up against him. Ray's cock was hard inside his jeans now, really fucking hard, and Vecchio - Vecchio was fucking easy, Vecchio was ready to go right here, and hey, betcha he was wishing he didn't have those stupid pajamas on right about now, huh?

Vecchio groaned into Ray's mouth, and Ray pressed down harder, getting really turned on now. Because Vecchio's hands were holding tight to Ray's hips, and God, the noises Vecchio was making were hot, and Fraser, Fraser was just - what was Fraser doing?

Ray, panting a little, turned his head to look. He had half a mind to say something about this not being a free show, buddy, but when he caught an eyeful of Fraser - Fraser, who had already taken off his shirt, Fraser who was stripping out of his pants right now, Fraser who was in such a hurry that the shorts came off with the pants - he lost the ability to form sentences.

Fraser, turned on Fraser, Fraser hard, and watching him and Vecchio together, and -

"Ray."

Startled, Ray looked from Fraser's cock to his face. "Uh."

Vecchio, still hard underneath Ray, was watching too. "Jesus. Hell of a wake-up call."

"Kiss him again, Ray," said Fraser, and wrapped his hand around his own cock.

"Jesus Christ," Ray breathed, and turned back to Vecchio.

"Jesus Christ," Vecchio said in agreement, and leaned his head up, kissing the hell out of Ray. So hot. So fucking hot, doing this to Vecchio with Fraser just - watching. Getting off on them together. It would never not be hot.

"Fuck," Vecchio moaned, tilting his head way back. Ray took the cue, and ran his tongue up the line of Vecchio's long neck. "You better be doing more than just kissing me, Kowalski."

"Yeah," said Ray, pulling back a little and tugging Vecchio's pajama pants down. "Hell, yeah."

And he'd just gotten them far enough down to get his hand on Vecchio's dick, and his mouth was watering, when a huge, strong hand grabbed hold of his shoulder, and yanked, and suddenly he was on his back again, the heavy weight of Fraser pinning him down to the bed.

"Fuck," hissed Vecchio, scrambling to get his pajamas the rest of the way off.

But Ray was distracted, Ray was held down, Ray was pinned by the Mountie. Fraser - ridiculously coordinated Fraser, thank the fucking lord - was kissing him, and groping his dick through his jeans, and he jerked his hips up, hard, to meet Fraser's hand, moaning helplessly. Fraser opened his pants, and when he slipped his hand inside, he raised his head suddenly, giving Ray a look.

All Ray could do was shrug and pant, "I was in a hurry after the gym."

"It seems so," murmured Fraser, wrapping his fingers around Ray's bare cock. Ray moaned, and thrust up into Fraser's fist.

Ray tilted his head towards Vecchio, and Vecchio - naked, now, beside them - edged closer. Ray shut his eyes as Vecchio pressed his lips against Ray's, his hand stroking over Ray's chest, brushing against his nipple, moving lower over his belly, and Ray moaned as Vecchio's hand skirted around Fraser's, down to cup Ray's balls. Jesus. Jesus. Ray was thrumming with this, he was in love with this, he was so hard, and he just never wanted this to stop. Not ever.

Which was, of course, when Fraser, with one last excruciatingly good stroke, let Ray's cock slip out of his hand. Ray tore his mouth away from Vecchio's. "Hey," he said accusingly.

"Shut up," said Vecchio, shifting to settle down on top of Ray. Ray obeyed, and shut up, because Vecchio's cock was sliding right up against his and man, that felt even better than Fraser's hand. Ray pushed up experimentally, and Vecchio gave him a stern look, then thrust back down against him. They both moaned, and Vecchio lowered his head, resting his forehead against Ray's shoulder, his breath coming hot and fast against Ray's skin. Ray brought his hands down to tug Vecchio's hips forward, and Vecchio let him, thrusting lazily against him and still panting against his skin.

"Yeah," Ray breathed, "Yeah, just like that, come on, Vecchio, just -"

Vecchio gave this long, low moan, and thrust forward again, shaking. "Fuck," he breathed, and then he was saying something in Italian, breathless, shaky words, and Ray opened his eyes. Over Vecchio's shoulder, Fraser was down between their legs, his hands on Vecchio's ass, holding him open, and obviously doing something fantastic with his tongue, from the way Vecchio was moving.

"Fraser," Ray said faintly, surging upwards involuntarily under Vecchio, and Vecchio moaned again, turning his head and panting hotly against Ray's ear, "Don't, don't move, I can't hang on - God -"

Ray froze as much as he could, as caught up in this as Vecchio. He couldn't see what Fraser was doing, but every time Vecchio's body trembled, he felt it. Every harsh breath Vecchio took burned against his skin. Ray felt right on the edge, so turned on he was dizzy with it. He couldn't stop his hips from moving, the tinest bit, hitching up against Vecchio, their cocks pressed together as Vecchio sprawled, tense and desperate on top of him.

"Jesus." Vecchio's voice was thick and blurry with sex. "Jesus, Benny, you gotta just - Jesus. Gimme a second. Gimme a second."

But Fraser wasn’t letting up at all, nope, Fraser was a man who saw things through. And Vecchio gasped, and gasped, and his whole body jerked hard as he came, Christ, all over Ray.

Hot, so damn hot. Vecchio lay, gasping against Ray's shoulder, as Ray pushed against him. "Move, Vecchio, come on."

Vecchio slid slowly to one side, collapsing heavily to the bed. "Benny, you trying to kill me?" he demanded, his voice muffled by the sheets.

"No, I…" Fraser trailed off vaguely, staring down at Ray - and Vecchio - both of them sprawled out on the bed like they were conquests of the Mountie. Fraser got a little too involved sometimes, in being on top, and it turned into something like the sexual Olympics. Ray was turned on, Ray had been turned on for a damn long time now, and he'd just been pinned there while Fraser did that, while Fraser got Vecchio off with just his tongue up his ass. Ray was a man with energy here, a lot of energy to burn.

"Come here," he ordered Fraser, and Fraser blinked, then narrowed his eyes and crawled up towards Ray.

"Uh-uh," said Ray, twisting easily to the side, and pushing Fraser down between him and Vecchio.

"Ray." Fraser was reaching towards him, but Ray pushed him back down at the same time that Vecchio gathered enough energy to put a hand on Fraser's neck and tug him close for a kiss.

Vecchio kept Fraser's mouth busy while Ray grabbed the lube off the bedside table. He got himself lubed up first, because he wasn't going to be able to wait very long once this got started. He put a firm hand on Fraser's back, keeping him on his stomach, and pressed two lubed fingers firmly into his ass.

Fraser yanked his mouth away from Vecchio's. "Oh dear sweet-" He bit off the words, inhaling desperately through his nose as he pressed back against Ray.

Vecchio lay back comfortably, lazily smiling at them as he reached back over to the bedside table where Fraser had placed his coffee.

"Enjoying the show?" Ray said tightly, pulling his fingers out and pressing his dick into Fraser's ass. Holy fuck. He was so fucking hot inside.

"Oh yeah," said Vecchio brightly. "I am loving the show." He took another sip of coffee, his eyes bright with amusement.

"Good," Ray said tightly, pressing in, and in, oh God. He pressed his lips to Fraser's sweaty back, and murmured, "How 'bout you, cowboy? You doing good?"

Fraser's eyes were closed, and his hands were grasping the sheets so tight his knuckles were white. He nodded slowly, and ran his tongue over his lips. "I’m good. Good. Just - please." He reached out with one flailing hand. "Ray, please."

Vecchio caught Fraser's hand in his, and looked up at Ray. "Do it."

"Like I need you to tell me that," Ray said breathlessly, and moved. It felt like he'd been waiting forever to fuck. He knew if he did this right - did it long and deep and drew it out, made it last, held Fraser on the edge, the very edge there, that Fraser would give in to it. Give it up, give himself up, and just - oh, yeah. Ray thrust steady, deep, and he couldn't stop groaning, even though Vecchio was grinning at him. Then Vecchio moved closer, right up against Fraser, and started talking low in his ear. Ray could barely hear any of it, his own groans and Fraser's harsh breaths were so loud, but whatever Vecchio was saying was getting Fraser into it, deepinto it, turning him on and revving him up.

Ray was close, God, so fucking close, and he grabbed onto Fraser's hips. "Up," he said, tugging. "Up, come on, Fraser."

Fraser did it, pushing back onto Ray's cock, his head still bowed low to the bed. Vecchio wasn't grinning anymore, wasn't talking, either, was just watching, a hungry look in his eyes. Ray squeezed his eyes shut - he was close, he was so fucking close - and was hardly breathing as he thrust forward again, and again. "Come on, Fraser, come on," Vecchio murmured, and Fraser - oh thank fucking God - shivered hard and when Ray thrust forward again, Fraser came, gasping, all over the sheets.

"Christ, Christ." Ray desperately forced Fraser down to the mattress, and pinned him there with one hand while he thrust in hard, hard, hard, and - oh holy mother of - came, finally, fucking finally, spurting again and again into Fraser's hot ass.

He was a little fuzzy for a while afterwards, and didn't quite remember actually pulling out of Fraser, but a short nap later, he cracked his eyes open with a sigh, and saw Fraser and Vecchio lazily kissing beside him.

He managed to push himself up on his elbows a little. "Hey," he said hazily, and they turned to look at him.

"Hey, yourself," said Vecchio, his voice deep with amusement.

Ray cleared his throat. "There're doughnuts." He nodded towards the bedroom door.

Vecchio regarded the doorway for a second. "All the way out there, huh? You two gonna let me get out of bed this time?"

"If you bring me a doughnut, I will." Ray grinned in what he hoped was a compelling manner.

Fraser frowned a little, sitting up. "No doughnuts in bed," he said. "Think of the crumbs."

"Oh, now you're suddenly concerned with being tidy?" Vecchio said, laughing.

"I'm always concerned with tidiness," Fraser said defensively.

"Mm," said Ray, running his eyes down Fraser's body, spattered, still, with come. "I can see that."

Fraser flushed. "I think I may be in need of another shower," he said, getting to his feet with as much dignity as you might expect from a naked Mountie.

"You do that." Ray turned back to Vecchio. "Seriously, I need a doughnut."

"In the kitchen," Fraser called over his shoulder as he headed towards the bathroom.

Ray sighed deeply, and Vecchio, who had gotten up and slipped into a robe, reached down a hand. Ray took it and hauled himself to his feet. "My coffee's cold, anyway," he explained, catching the pair of boxer shorts Vecchio tossed at him from the dresser.

"Yeah, and you don't want to cross Fraser," Vecchio said, taking his own coffee and heading to the kitchen.

Ray scratched at his chest and looked around for a t-shirt. "Not about crumbs," he called after Vecchio. "He gets really pissed about crumbs." That last part was muffled as he tugged a shirt over his head and followed Vecchio out of the bedroom, grabbing his coffee on the way.

Besides, this way, Fraser would make the bed when he came out of the shower, and it would be all set for the three of them to mess it up again later.


End file.
